The rate of fire would be slow, but hitting a stationary target with a sniper rifle was not that difficult—at point-blank range, at least, it was truly simple.
Yet what Gao Fei considered a slow rate of fire was only slow in his own estimation.
The allied sniper was annoyed by Gao Fei's pace of shooting because he felt Gao Fei was wasting dedicated 7N1 rounds, which were genuinely scarce.
An SVD could fire standard 7.62x54mmR rounds, the same machine-gun ammunition Glaski used. But with that ammo, its accuracy degraded considerably, reducing the SVD's maximum precise range to around six hundred meters.
The common impression that the SVD had an effective range of only six hundred meters had largely come from people firing too many standard 7.62R rounds through it.
If loaded with 7N1 ammunition, however, the rifle's precision improved drastically, maintaining sufficient accuracy out to at least eight hundred meters and easily qualifying as an acceptable sniper rifle.
Gao Fei knew the difference between the two cartridges; he just hadn't realized he had been firing 7N1 rounds.
Hearing the sniper's genuine astonishment that the shots had landed gave Gao Fei a surge of confidence. He began to feel he could handle a sniper rifle without issue.
Then he heard the sniper say beside him, "Not bad. Solid mount, very steady hold, tight shot group. You've got talent for sniping."
They were kind words, but they sounded perfunctory, as though the man didn't quite mean them.
Well, firing an assault rifle and firing a sniper rifle really were two completely different matters.
Sokholov chimed in, "Can he try a distant target? At least try something at four hundred meters. He's very good at shooting moving targets."
"At four hundred meters, are you going to run over and check where the bullets hit? And good at moving targets? What, am I supposed to notify the Ukrainians to send two guys out for him to shoot at?"
The sniper snapped irritably at Sokholov, then added in a testy voice, "If you want to be a sniper, practice more. Talk to me after you've fired at least a few thousand rounds."
A good marksman was forged in mountains of ammunition. No matter how much natural talent someone had, they still had to fire thousands of rounds before becoming a true sniper.
In fact, turning into a real sharpshooter required the exact same massive volume of shooting.
Gao Fei was an anomaly. His anomaly lay in starting from such a ridiculously high baseline that ordinary people could hardly tell he was merely a beginner.
Even so, suppressing firing ports at close quarters or delivering rapid consecutive headshots against enemies in a trench all took place at distances of thirty or forty meters at most. One couldn't quite say anyone with two hands could pull it off, but that was indeed a range where practically anyone could land a hit.
A rifle was not a pistol. Hitting a person with a handgun at thirty meters was challenging, but doing so with a rifle was the most basic baseline requirement.
What set Gao Fei apart from ordinary soldiers at that distance was his rate of fire, not his accuracy.
To achieve the same results beyond two hundred meters, Gao Fei would need to burn through thousands of rounds, developing the muscle memory and instinctive shooting reflexes that made it possible.
Yet out on the frontline, there was no way to practice, which was truly frustrating.
What the frontline lacked wasn't guns or ammunition. It lacked paper targets, spotters, ultra-high-magnification spotting scopes, and an environment where one could observe the results of each shot.
A soldier couldn't fire several rounds at the enemy's positions and then jog across no-man's-land to see what ring he had hit. Nor could he spend his days shooting toward the rear of his own lines; if he did that, the barrier troops would march over and execute him on the spot.
Why had the sniper told Gao Fei to shoot at a target two hundred meters away? Because beyond that distance, they couldn't confirm hits through binoculars.
It was thoroughly helpless.
The sniper said to Gao Fei, "Your rate of fire took me by surprise, and your accuracy wasn't bad. That's why I said you have talent for sniping. But beyond that, there's nothing more I can do for you. All right, you can give me back my rifle now."
Gao Fei did not hand the weapon back. Instead, he shifted the muzzle, scanning for a target further out.
He wanted the kind of target where a hit would be instantly obvious, something where he wouldn't need a clear visual confirmation of bullet holes to know the outcome.
Finding such a target on an active battlefield, however, was exceptionally difficult.
Seeing that Gao Fei had no intention of returning the rifle just yet, Sokholov said, "What's the rush? For three hundred dollars, he ought to get at least a few more shots in."
This wasn't a favor begged out of goodwill; the rifle was rented for three hundred dollars. Letting Gao Fei take a few more shots was the only way to get their money's worth.
Gao Fei moved his muzzle across the terrain until it settled on the enemy's reserve position.
The ground under their feet was the enemy's former main position. Having lost it, the Ukrainians would inevitably fall back to their reserve position, turning it into their new forward position and scrambling to set up defenses. Consequently, there were bound to be people there.
Gao Fei finally spotted a machine gun position.
The enemy was urgently digging fresh trenches, expanding the reserve line, adding new machine gun positions, and making the network more intricate. Soldiers and heavy machinery were both at work.
Through the scope, Gao Fei could see clods of dirt flying out of the trench as soldiers shoveled furiously. But he saw only the dirt being cast aside, not the men doing the digging.
Taking a shot at someone remained difficult. At a time like this, no one would be foolish enough to stick their head out.
He kept shifting the muzzle, scanning through the reticle. Right at that moment, Gao Fei saw a machine gun being shoved up from the trench.
There was an art to establishing a machine gun position. A proper, well-constructed bunker required overhead cover to protect against direct mortar hits, and on the Bakhmut battlefield, it was also crucial for warding off drone strikes.
Today's assault, however, had shattered the enemy's defensive line. If they needed to throw together emergency machine gun positions, they could only erect the crudest emplacements first. That meant the enemy machine gun position before him currently had virtually no protection.
Gao Fei instantly perked up. He locked the rifle firmly in place, lifted his eye from the scope, and carefully judged the distance to the newly discovered machine gun position with the naked eye.
It was pushing the limits. Gao Fei couldn't determine the exact distance, but he was certain it was at least four hundred meters away.
He brought his eye back behind the scope, recalling what the sniper had said earlier: beyond two hundred meters, drop one mil for every extra fifty meters.
Evidently, this sniper's optic was zeroed for relatively close engagements. If it was zeroed at two hundred meters, shooting targets beyond six hundred would run out of mil markings on the reticle entirely.
Gao Fei aligned the third mil dot below the crosshair directly with the machine gun. He waited for the enemy gunner to appear.
Even if the machine gunner wouldn't stay exposed for long, he would at least have to poke his head out to set the weapon properly in place.
His patience paid off. The moment Gao Fei saw a head pop into view through the optic, he squeezed the trigger without hesitation.
With a sharp crack, the rifle bucked from recoil. Gao Fei fought to control the muzzle, adjusted swiftly, and acquired the spot again through the glass, only to see the gunner completely unharmed.
He had missed. And the enemy gunner didn't seem to notice a round flying past, which suggested the shot had strayed quite far.
Frustrated, Gao Fei grimaced.
Why had he missed?
His aim had felt solid.
Had he rushed it? Yanked the trigger too hard? At extreme ranges, the slightest flaw in technique would cause a bullet to deviate drastically—an error of a hair's breadth at the muzzle meant missing by miles downrange.
Yet judging from the machine gunner's reaction, since he had noticed a bullet flying past, that meant the shot couldn't have strayed by much.
While Gao Fei searched for the cause, the sniper standing beside him hadn't even realized he had fired at actual enemy troops.
"I saw a machine gunner. The shot went wide. Do I need to account for windage at four hundred meters?"
"What?"
The sniper was startled, then barked, "Take cover! You were shooting at an enemy machine gunner?"
Gao Fei pulled the rifle back and dropped into the trench, replying in all seriousness, "Yes, I was aiming at the gunner, but I missed. My aim felt fine, so do I need to factor in windage at four hundred meters?"
"Of course you do!"
The sniper looked thoroughly irritated. "At the very least, you have to check the wind before pulling the trigger! Of course there's wind drift at four hundred meters! Besides, if you're engaging the enemy, you should at least warn us first! What if an enemy sniper spots your position? What if they hit us with rockets or mortars?"
A newbie was a newbie. The moment he saw a target, he forgot every factor a sniper had to consider.
"Sorry about that. Can I take one more shot?"
The sniper answered without hesitation, "No. For three hundred dollars, I've already done enough."
"I have one more question. That shot seemed to miss by a wide margin. Even with windage, the deviation shouldn't have been that large. Did you notice anything wrong with my shooting form?"
"Plenty was wrong. Your movement when breaking the shot was way too aggressive. Deliberate aim, surprise break—the pull has to be smooth and gentle. And are you sure you were even properly on target?"
"I felt like I was, but stationary targets are tricky for me. Moving targets feel effortless, but with fixed targets, it always feels like something is missing. Let me try one more shot."
Gao Fei rose again. When he tried to reacquire the target, he realized he couldn't find the exact spot he had been aiming at.
The difference between a sniper rifle and an assault rifle was massive; they were completely different worlds.
He had to search through the scope from scratch. Once the muzzle seemed roughly pointed in the right direction, he slowly swept the glass across the terrain. By the time he located the heavy machine gun again, at least ten seconds had slipped by.
He needed practice—a massive amount of practice.
The machine gunner was gone from view. There was no telling if he would show his head again. Gao Fei felt annoyed, but he kept the reticle trained on the spot where the man had surfaced.
"The muzzle jump is heavy, and reacquiring the target wastes time. How do I manage that?"
"If you have space underneath, pull down on the sling with your off hand. If you don't, rest your hand over the rifle to hold it down. But you shouldn't need that—the enemy won't give you chances for rapid follow-up shots anyway."
"How do I adjust for windage?"
"Determine the wind direction first. Right now it's a westerly, a crosswind, not very strong. At four hundred meters, just bias your hold slightly west of the target. Not even a full mil. It's largely down to feel. The mil reticle markings won't match every single shot perfectly; you need experience to..."
The sniper was still explaining, and Gao Fei listened intently. He pressed his left hand down across the top of the rifle, holding the reticle slightly between two horizontal mil hashes over his point of aim—an adjustment so minuscule it was barely perceptible.
Right then, Gao Fei saw a helmet rise once more. Not where he had been aiming, but right beside the machine gun, another man abruptly popped his head up.
Gao Fei swung the muzzle without hesitation. As the crosshairs swept onto the target, his mind registered whether the space between the mil dots was aligned. Before his conscious thoughts could even decide whether to shoot, his finger had already squeezed the trigger.
The rifle cracked, recoil driving into his shoulder. The scope hopped, but Gao Fei's hand pinned the rifle down firmly, keeping the target area within his field of view, his eye never leaving the glass.
Through the optic, Gao Fei saw the newly exposed head snap backward and collapse.
"You fired again!" the sniper yelled, exasperated.
After a brief hesitation, Gao Fei said with little conviction, "I think I hit him."
The scope showed nothing now; the enemy was nowhere to be seen. But Gao Fei replayed the way the man had fallen out of his sights, and his voice turned firm with absolute confidence.
"I definitely hit him."
Chapter 58